


Entertain my faith

by notupforpolo



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Character Death, Clueless Mark Lee (NCT), Dialogue Heavy, Gen, Graphic Description, Grim Reapers, Hurt No Comfort, I never ment to hurt my boys but I did, I'm Sorry, M/M, Major Character Injury, Platonic Relationships, Seo Youngho | Johnny Is a Good Hyung, World War I, or are they, well some parts are, you wouldn’t think it was dialogue heavy but it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 14:32:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17809751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notupforpolo/pseuds/notupforpolo
Summary: But the most noticeable thing for the two boys standing in the middle of the field was not the hats or the snakes. Not the rifles or the grass. No, the most noticeable thing for the boys was something that wasn’t there. Something that was missing.“Where are all the bodies?”OrMark and Johnny are the Grim Reapers apprentices. On Marks first real reaping, they are sent to a battlefield.





	Entertain my faith

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Twenty One Pilots - Holding on to you

1918

The grass was wet with dew. The early morning sun was painting the moist air with blue and orange. It looked as if the air was lit up with spotlights, coming from the sky. Grass was missing in some spots. Where it existed it painted the ground a greenish yellow. If you looked close enough, you could spot some trees in the distance, but the colour was drained from them too. At both ends of the field, there was an edge. Gaps in the lifeless ground. They weren’t very wide, but they were long. As far as the eye could see, you could see the gap. Like two snakes slithering over the open field. Fighting to slither the farthest.

There were tiny, shallow gaps in between the snakes. They didn’t look nearly as long. They were dug hastily. In moments of panic and hurry. They didn’t have any beams holding them up. They were just there. Abandoned and used at the same time.

Some helmets and rifles were scattered on the field. Most of them had fallen close to the shallow gaps and the snakes. Left there. Some of the helmets were broken. They had holes or bumps in them. They were useless. Much like the people that had used them. 

But the most noticeable thing for the two boys standing in the middle of the field was not the hats or the snakes. Not the rifles or the grass. No, the most noticeable thing for the boys was something that wasn’t there. Something that was missing. 

“Where are all the bodies?”

Johnny looked down at Mark. The boy who had been giddy with excitement was twisting and turning to spot anything. His eyes were open wide as he stretched his neck to look a little more. Even just a splotch of blood would indicate something. Mark knew there was supposed to be something there. 

Mark looked up at Johnny. Barely disguised disappointment visible. “Sir said there would be lots of them, right Johnny?” 

Johnny could only nod. “Yes. He did say that.”

Johnny was equally as surprised, but not as disappointed. He was used to having to look for bodies. He had been on a fair number of reapings at this point. Having been the grim reaper's apprentice for close to twenty years. He had seen a lot at this point. He had had to dig graves back up and dive down into lakes. But he had seen battlefields. Battlefields never changed. Hundreds of bodies in huddles and scattered across it. Always visible. Easy to reap. But there were none here. Just field with helmets, rifles and snakes.

Johnny had really wanted to make this special for Mark. It would be the boy’s first real reaping. His first time without Sir and more than one or two bodies. It was supposed to be special. But it was just empty.

Mark had become the grim reapers trainee eleven years ago.

He’d died of pneumonia. Sadly nothing special. Johnny remembered the reaping of his body vividly. It had been his first child. Mark was two when he died. His body had been so skinny and pale when Johnny and the Reaper arrived. His mother was sobbing at the side of the small bed and the father stood a bit behind her in the small room. Mark’s family hadn’t been very rich, and that was hard to miss.

The grim reaper had walked towards the bed. Slowly and eerily calm as always. But only Johnny was aware of that. The family had no idea two other souls were in the room. 

Before he put his hand on the boys head the grim reaper stopped. For a while, he just stood there. Not moving a millimetre. The only thing Johnny could hear was the sound of sobbing. This had never happened before. It was usually quick. Still was. Get the soul and then get out.

But it had been different that day.

‘Johnny,’ the reaper had said.

‘Sir?’

‘He is like you. We cannot take this boy’s soul.’

The realisation had dawned on Johnny. The boy was like him. He would join them as the second apprentice. The last apprentice had been found.

“Remember what I told you last week. Sometimes you have to look for them.”

Mark furrowed his brow. “But you and Sir both said that battlefields weren’t like that.” 

He kicked at the grass with his bare feet and pulled a little at the buttons of his jacket. He was wearing a sailor outfit, just like all the other boys his. Even though people couldn’t see him, he had been so happy when he got it.

“Yeah, I know, but sometimes I’m not correct.” Johnny smiled cheapest at the younger to lighten the mood a bit. Mark, however, wasn’t really having it.

“But Sir said it too. He isn’t wrong.” Mark kept on staring at the empty fields. The sky was lighter now. You could see the entire sun as it put more and more distance between itself and the horizon. Johnny was starting to worry a bit. They had to be back at the mansion soon. 

“Maybe the humans already buried them.” 

“Johnny, you don’t even believe that yourself.”

“Someone’s bitter.” Johnny laughed lightly. He could still save Marks experience. Or rather do some patchwork. 

“Well, it’s a bit underwhelming.”

“We’ll just have to look for them. No problem.”

Mark huffed. “But there’s no blood. They can’t have been killed here.”

Johnny knew the younger was right. No blood usually meant no fighting. No guns or swords. No arrows or canons. But you couldn’t wash away blood in a night. And dew could only do so much. 

“Are you doubting what Sir told us?”

It was meant as another trick to light up the mood, but Mark’s face changed immediately. 

 

“No! Not at all. I know… I know that Sir always is correct.”

“Calm down Mark. I understand. And even if you meant it I wouldn’t tell.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Johnny held out his hand and Mark grabbed it. They didn’t shake hands. They just held on. It was a tradition that started long ago. A shake was, well, shaky. Unstable. So they just held still. It represented safety and stability. It was good. 

“Well, let us get to work.”

As Johnny said that he turned from Mark and walked further out in the field. He looked around again, just for the sake of it. There were no bodies this time either. It was still an empty battlefield. The cracks in the ground caught his attention. Cannonballs flew quite far these days, but even they didn’t leave scars like that. In addition to that, they left blood and limbs. The peaceful field would have been vile to look at.  
Johnny nudged Mark and pointed towards one of the gaps in the ground. Mark followed the finger and looked up at the older. He was about to open his mouth when Johnny just grabbed him and pulled him towards it. Mark just followed. 

The nearer the gaps the boys came, the more signs of life they saw. More helmets. More rifles. Bottles, shoes, even a body. 

“Johnny! Johnny – look.”

“At least there’s one.”

“Can I put my hand over yours? Please. I am begging you.”

“‘Course you can. ”

“Thank you.”

Johnny knelt down next to the man. His tag was visible on his jacket.

‘Nakamoto Yuta’

Nakamoto Yuta would be the first person that’d died in action Johnny picked up during this war. The first direct victim of the war that was happening. That had just ended.

Sir hadn’t let him do anything than pick up victims of illness or starvation. No one that had been a victim of violence had been reaped by Johnny. Although Sir’s reasons had been unclear, the apprentice never questioned him. He never did. 

“There’s no wound.”

“Mark, not everyone dies of wounds.”

“If they are laying in the middle of a battlefield they probably do.”

“He may have been sick. He may even have a hidden injury under his clothes.”

“He is collapsed in the middle of a battlefield.”

“You need to have some respect, Mark. This man, wound or not, has died.” 

The younger was taken aback by the harsh words. Johnny was always calm and patient. Never did he get irritated by Mark’s questions or inexperience.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Mark looked down and began to kick the ground again. His ears got a little red. “It’s just- sorry.”

“Mark it’s fine. I know it’s exciting and all since it’s your first time on a real mission, but it’s serious. We need to have respect for the dead because they have people who love them. People will mourn this man. Our feelings on how he died shouldn’t matter. We are just a service, in the end.”  
“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Johnny crouched down again. He put his hand back on Nakamoto Yuta’s forehead. He looked expectantly at Mark and gestured with his head. Mark jolted as he understood what the older meant. Hastily he put his own hand over Johnny's. The man in front of him was pretty. His face was a little dirty, but he looked peaceful. It never ceases to amaze Mark how the dead always had facial expressions. Most people Mark had seen looked calm. But those who died of illnesses looked troubled. Like they had suffered until the end. 

That’s what Mark had expected when they arrived at what was supposed to be a battlefield. Grass covered in blood and bodies. Troubled faces and people crouching next to them, seeing if they were okay. Men crying over fallen friends. Not this. 

A single lonely man. Lying alone in an empty field. 

“Yuta!”

Mark snatched his hand away from Johnny’s. Johnny did the same. 

“Did he come back to life after you took his soul?”

Johnny only looked at Mark with a bewildered expression.

“Mark, look.” He pointed toward a man running towards them. Well, towards Yuta. He looked as if he was going to fall down on every step. Stumbling over is own boots every time he moved. Despite this, his speed was only increasing. 

He threw off the rifle slung over his back. As he got closer, he did the same with his backpack. He lost his footing and fell. He hit the ground with a thud. But as quickly as he had fallen, he got up. A bit of dirt had stuck to his green uniform. 

As the man got closer, his features were revealed. He was fairly tall, and lean. His uniform was too big for his body. It hung loosely on his shoulders and the belt was tightened har around his waist. His eyes were wild as he sprinted towards Nakamoto Yuta. But even that couldn’t hide his soft features. He had a skinny face, which highlighted his big eyes. His seemingly plum lips were drawn up in a face of panic. 

As the pretty man was no more than a meter from the dead body he slid down on his knees. Tears were running down his face. Eyes wide, chest heaving after all the running. 

“P-please,” the man panted out. “Yuta, no.”

The man put his hands on Yuta’s chest.

His silent cries turning to sobs.

More and more hysterical cries accompanied by a mantra of Yuta’s name. 

Mark couldn’t look away. He had seen mourners. Mothers who’d lost their children. Boys who’d lost their brothers. But this was raw. So incredibly raw. 

He felt a pair of arms embracing him from behind. He didn’t have time look up before he was turned around, his face in Johnny’s chest. Johnny’s strong arms holding him tight. The young man’s – no, boy’s – screams bleeding into the background. 

Mark hugged Johnny tighter.

Johnny did the same.

But although the crying boy’s wails were now in the background, a new voice broke through the atmosphere.

“Sicheng!”

A second man was running towards them. He arrived faster than the boy, Sicheng, had done. Backpack and rifle already gone and boots the right size. 

But Sicheng just stayed in place. His hand still on Yuta’s chest.

“Johnny, what is happening?” Mark’s voice was a bit muffled, still pressed against the older’s chest. He couldn’t see the man running, but he could hear him. 

“Mark, I can feel at least one other body.” Johnny pulled Mark away from him, but his left hand held a steady grip on Mark’s shoulder.

“I just wanna… see. Just a little.”

“Kun- I can’t- Taeil he-”

“Calm down, Sicheng. Calm down.”

The other man, Kun had now crouched down next to Sicheng. Kun turned the boy around, so his eyes were no longer facing the body. Much like Johnny had done with Mark, Kun forced Sicheng into an embrace. Sicheng’s eyes looking out at the empty, cold, field. His eyes were red, tears pouring out. Like a monsoon of sadness. His breaths were harsh as he struggled against Kun. Trying to turn his head. To look at the fallen soldier again.

But Kun held him in place. A hand at the back of Sicheng’s head as he pressed him closer. Whispering sweet words in his ears. Talking to him like a mother would talk to their child. But Kuns own eyes strayed to Nakamoto Yuta’s body. He couldn’t keep them away. A few lonely tears rolling down his cheeks and collecting at his chin. 

Johnny couldn’t hear what Kun was saying, his voice still drowned out by Sicheng. But he could imagine. Johnny had heard it all before. His main concern was Mark. This wasn’t the first time for Mark. But this was different. Johnny wouldn’t be able to explain why it was, it just… was. 

“Mark. We have to go.”

Mark gripped Johnny’s hand. He held it tight as he turned around, facing away from the three men. Johnny squeezed. He pulled lightly at the hand and started walking. With every step Johnny and Mark took, the more the cries subsided. If it was because they got further away or Sicheng had calm downed was a question they didn’t want to be answered. Maybe neither was desirable. 

They were walking towards the snake. The dew in the grass had dried. The sun was up.

They were standing at the edge of the snake.

It wasn’t a snake. It was a trench. A mile-long abandoned trench.

Johnny jumped down carefully. Landing in the trench. He reached out his hands, a silent invitation. Mark followed him, jumping a bit less gracefully down. 

The trench was just as cold as expected. Sacks stacked upon each other or planks lined the walls to keep the ground from falling in. Some even had metal pieces covering them, but in the end, it was all the same. The muddy ground was covered in leftovers from the people who had lived there. A shovel, half buried by the mud. A makeshift pillow with a bit of blood on it. Even a stretcher. All the valuable resources already collected. 

At one point Johnny stepped box labelled ‘ammunition’. The letters were unclear, probably washed away a long time ago, but what else could it be. It was like walking in a ruin. 

“Stop now,” Johnny put his hand in front of Mark’s chest. “It should be here.”

One side of the trench was dug out differently. In the wall, the soldiers had dug out rectangular shaped holes. Long and wide enough for a man to lay in. Beds, Johnny realised. A few covers were left in them, and one or two pillows. 

A face, hidden in darkness. A man, covered by a blanket.

A skinny face, wide nose and big, slim eyes. His uniform was open, a bit of it hanging out from under the blanket. A big red spot being what made it stick out.

“That’s- that’s a lot of blood.” Mark wanted to remove the entire piece of fabric that hid the injury. How bad it really was. But the cover didn’t move. Why would it? Mark wasn’t really there, neither was Johnny. 

Mark often found himself wanting to bring something back with him. Something more than just the memory. But he wasn’t physically there. He was never really anywhere. It was the only thing that really made this hard. Not the death or the mourners. No, his lack of influence was what bothered him the most. Johnny had once said that once upon a time, he had felt the same. He said that it would be worse if he would remember everyone. Rather than force himself to remember, he would try with all his might to forget. Mark didn’t understand. Not yet.

“Did you see the photo in Nakamoto Yuta’s pocket?” Johnny asked suddenly.

“Yes,” Mark’s gaze was stuck on the nice looking man. “but only briefly.”

Johnny put his hand on the dead man’s forehead. “It was a picture this man, and the crying one.”

Mark could feel the soul of the man disappear. 

“It had three names on the bottom.”

Mark thought back to the crying man. He wondered for a second what relationship he had with Kun.

“Dong Sicheng, Nakamoto Yuta and,” Johnny motioned to the man who’d just lost his soul. “Moon Taeil.”

It was quite rare to know the names of the people who had died. Johnny knew that. Mark knew that. If you found out it was usually because people were crying out their names. But Dong Sicheng wasn’t dead. That’s why it was peaceful.

“Do you think they will find him?” Mark asked and nodded his head in the direction of Taeil. His eyes locked on him again. Wondering about what a life he’d lived. What his relationship to the others had been. If he was kind or cold. If he was shy or extroverted. Had he been a friend or something more. 

“Do you think they will stop looking?” Johnny never thought about this anymore. The grim reaper had told him many times that there was no point. He was much more direct than Johnny himself. The solemn creature had told his first apprentice many times that he was to easy on Mark. Mark needed to learn the same things as Johnny had done. Whether he liked it or not. 

The sun was set fairly high now. They had been out for long. If they would have been able to feel cold their feet would be frozen. If they were affected by death the same way people were they would have been exhausted. But they weren’t. They could only feel the absence of bodies. They could smell the dry grass and could hear the wind and the birds in the air. They couldn’t feel the cold or the mud under their feet. They couldn’t feel sadness or guilt.

They felt accomplished, in the most wicked of ways.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello.
> 
> I'm sorry to you and to all my boys. Only my heart was injured during the process of this.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading and please be kind, english isn't my first language and free grammarly is my beta. 
> 
> Comments and kudos make me really happy, and help me a lot.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


End file.
